


maintenance

by Authoress



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, au where both boys and arashi are third years!, hint: it's bc they're in love, it looks like 17k of smut it is definitely not, itsuki "why is kagehira acting so weird" shu, kagehira "why is oshi-san acting so weird" mika, makeup and dresses are involved, meddling naru-chans are invovlved, mika and shu keep touchign each other and pretending it means nothing bc they're dumbasses, mostly just instances of skinship building to confessions and kisses and uh, the other stuff, the smut is only very small and at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-12
Updated: 2017-05-12
Packaged: 2018-10-30 20:45:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10884612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Authoress/pseuds/Authoress
Summary: Skinship is skinship, until it's something more.





	maintenance

**Author's Note:**

> *waves* hi enstars fandom! i'm moving in here.
> 
> this is my first shumika (of many, i am sure) so i'll ask y'all please be gentle, i'm still feeling out their characterizations and trying to find what works for me. enjoy~
> 
> EDIT: NOW FEATURING HINA'S SPECTACULAR ART!  
> [shu putting makeup on mika](https://twitter.com/midoriyaizuhugs/status/863964135465287681)  
> [mika in The Dress ](https://twitter.com/midoriyaizuhugs/status/862885758683807744)

 

Before every great storm, there are always signs.

The ticking over of the weatherscan, in greens and yellows and oranges and reds; the circling of the cyclone; the overcast skies and winds that tore leaves from trees and filled the air with the hiss of branches; the children ushered inside with windows and doors closing and locking behind them. There’s the moment of not knowing—will it or won’t it hit—and will it really be as bad as the forecaster says? The uncertainty leads to dismissal which leads to windows cracked open and heads tilted towards the sky, wondering just what these swirling storm clouds could mean, although they know. They always know.

Maybe Mika always knew, too, but he never pegged himself to be the brightest spotlight on stage.

In any case, his dedication to Shu surpasses his more animalistic hardwiring, such as survival instincts, common sense, and independence. Every instinct intended to keep him safe and healthy has been repurposed to be aware of Shu and Shu’s condition which—well, it’s not the most _healthy_ arrangement, is it, but when another person is the reason you live, it works well enough. So naturally, Mika notices immediately when something is off.

“Oshi-san, maintenance,” Mika chirps, poking his head around the corner of the backstage vanities. He hangs on the wall, tilting his head to the side in that unrefined manner Shu hated so much.

Shu, adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves, hazards a glance upwards and scowls. “Stop playing around like a moron, Kagehira. What is it? If you’ve ripped a single seam—”

“Makeup,” Mika huffs. “You forgot to do mine.”

Shu swears under his breath and shoots a glance at the clock, then swears again. He marches over to Mika, ignoring his cuffs. “Really,” he says, taking Mika by the shoulder and shoving him into a seat. “Really, you’re so irresponsible. We’ve got less than ten minutes until we go on, could you have cut it any closer? Nito was never this empty-headed.”

The last part is muttered as an aside, no longer aching bitterness but rather genuine irritation with Mika for being an airhead. Mika smiles. Good, that’s how it should be. Shu needed to be thinking of him and of Valkyrie, nothing else. Things like Nazuna-nii and what they used to be were only good in passing, not at the forefront of Shu’s mind, where they could hurt him.

“I coulda done it myself, but…” Mika says.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Shu says. “Even with Narukami as your friend, you’re still an oaf when it comes to this kind of delicacy. You’d poke your own eye out and we’d have to cancel. The _height_ of embarrassment.”

“I’d go on for sure!” Mika protests. “Even if I lost an eye, I’d never abandon Valkyrie!”

“And be crying on stage? Oh, that’d go over well.” Shu opens his makeup bag and pulls out a black pencil. “Close your eyes.”

Mika obeys. There’s a moment of nothing, and then the pencil touches the corner of his eyelid and he flinches. It’s involuntary—he gets jumpy when it comes to anything near his eyes—but even with constant exposure to eyeliner and eyeshadow, he still can’t suppress the movement.

Shu’s not having it. He grabs Mika’s chin in his free hand, rougher than necessary.

“Stay still,” Shu growls.

This time, Mika barely wavers in his grasp when the pencil traces the edge of one eyelid, then the other. Shu’s strokes are swift and decisive. “Open your eyes and look up,” he says. Mika obeys. Lighter strokes along his lower eyelids, then he’s done. Shu caps the pencil and reaches into his bad for eyeshadow. He dabs the brush in some shiny gold and grabs Mika’s chin again. “Close your eyes.”

Mika can feel the press of his thumb at the edge of his lower lip.

Shu doesn’t put an excess of eyeshadow on Mika—he thinks too much makeup makes them look cheap—and he only puts mascara on Mika, not himself. Shu’s own makeup is simple and slightly glittery, just enough flashiness to remind that Valkyrie _were_ idols after all, and they had as much flair in every area as any of the foolish mortals who dared to challenge them.

The first time Shu put makeup on him, Mika got embarrassed, thinking that this was a thing for girls and well, he was feminine enough, wasn’t he? Why make people question his gender with his girly name and long hair and slender figure and this _makeup_ …

But Shu had worn it so boldly. Narrowed his eyes at Mika, the wings of his eyeliner cutting into Mika’s heart and making Shu look imposing. Even his dusky eyeshadow at that time hadn’t struck Mika as feminine, just—powerful. Shu wore his makeup as a statement, telling the audience “I am the puppetmaster, and you must obey me.” If it was Shu putting on his makeup, Mika knew there was purpose behind it, that the heavy feeling on his eyelids was strength, not femininity. It was their warpaint when they painted the stage with blood.

Now, when Arashi tried to put anything on him…that was a different story.

“Oh, lip gloss too?” Mika says when Shu pulls out the tube and unscrews the lid.

Shu gives him a probably undeserved glare. “Do you think I’m blind?”

“What?” Mika asks. “Wha’d I do?”

Shu taps Mika’s bottom lip. “You’re chewing on it. I don’t know how many times I told you to stop.”

Mika runs his tongue over his bottom lip. Now that he thought about it, there was a sore patch of bitten off skin and it felt rather rough. Did he really chew his lips so much in class? He’d caught Shu glaring at him a couple times in class, perhaps that was why?

“Don’t _lick_ it!” Shu snaps. “You’ll make the damage worse. Honestly…”

“Sorry, Oshi-san,” Mika says. “’S unconscious.”

“So is breathing, but you can regulate that, can’t you?” Shu says. “You’re nothing like Nito, not at all. For once in your life, consider how much effort I have to put in to make such a flawed puppet appear to be a perfect doll.”

“’M like a pet project though, ain’t I?” Mika says, grinning. “’S no fun if I’m just perfect all the time.”

“You’re a pain,” Shu says. “I can feel my life force steadily draining. Now, open your mouth.”

Mika parts his lips and lets Shu paint them in the shiny, light pink lip gloss. Shu leans in, close enough that Mika can feel soft exhalations against his cheek. Mika watches his face as he dabs at Mika’s lips, hand still on Mika’s chin. Shu’s eyes are half-lidded and the same deep lavender that made Mika’s insides twist with envy and awe. Even focused on his task and not keeping up airs of composure, Shu remains perfectly kept and handsome, lips pursed and brows neat. He might’ve put on some foundation when Mika wasn’t paying attention, but his cheeks still look soft and clean.

Shu’s grip isn’t gentle, not at all, but it’s still making Mika feel a little light-headed. He finishes with the lip gloss and screws it back on. Using the same thumb that had been pressed against Mika’s chin, he swipes at the edges of Mika’s lips, cleaning off the excess gloss, and then he drags his thumb across Mika’s bottom lip, rubbing it in. There’s some music playing in the house before they come on stage, but Mika can’t hear it. Everything is quiet and frozen around him, except where Shu touches his skin.

Mika watches Shu clean him up, make him pretty, and Shu makes the mistake of looking up to meet Mika’s eyes. It’s an uninterested flick of the eyes upwards, then back down, but Shu must see something because he immediately looks back up and holds Mika’s gaze. His narrowed eyes widen a bit, and he parts his lips.

“Kagehira, you…”

The stage manager pushes through the curtain. “Three minutes, Valkyrie.”

“Right,” Shu says, jerking away from Mika, and the moment is over. Mika feels like bubbling to the surface, like coming up for air. When he takes a breath, it is deeper than anticipated.

Shu packs up his bag, but Mika doesn’t miss the look he shoots Mika—evaluating, categorizing, reassessing what he was looking at. Mika blinks. He wants to ask Shu what _that_ was all about, and what he was going to say, and why he looked so thrown off when he was usually such a steady stone in the currents of Mika’s eccentricities, but Shu cuts him off before he can even open his mouth.

“Come on. You’re decent. We have an audience to astound. Be on your best behavior, Kagehira.”

“Aye,” Mika says, but internally, he takes stock of Shu’s near-flustered packing of his meticulously organized makeup bag and lack of insults and thinks, _what the hell_?

 

\--------------------------------

 

It could’ve been an off day. Mika would’ve preferred it be an off day.

If Shu hadn’t eaten, if he had been feeling sick or faint, if he’d remembered some paper he had due and would end up turning in late because of idol activities, Mika could’ve accepted it. He wouldn’t have worried. Shu being weird when he felt off wasn’t even remotely unusual. In fact, it didn’t cross Mika’s mind to worry about, until it happened again.

“Frankly,” Shu says, “I think you’re hopeless.”

“Nnngh,” Mika grumbles. “I’m _tryin’_.”

Shu watches him sew with crossed arms, sitting on a stool across from him in the Handicraft Club’s clubroom. Mika, already less than fond of gazes—particularly harsh, judging gazes—wilts under Shu’s scrutiny. He pokes himself with the needle and hisses, shaking his hand and licking at the sore spot. He manages a few more stitches and then holds up the strip of fabric for Shu to inspect.

“Terrible,” Shu says, giving it a brief look over. “Abysmal. Amateur, and it shows. Not even worth examining. Terrible.”

“Tell me how ya really feel,” Mika mutters.

“Was that sass, Kagehira?” Shu asks.

“Not a chance,” Mika says. “I just don’t understand. What am I doin’ wrong. Sure, it don’t look _exactly_ like Oshi-san’s, but…”

Shu snatches the fabric from Mika and holds up the newly-stitched seams. “Isn’t it obvious? Your stitching is uneven, both in length between the stitches and the straightness of the seam. It’s not like you have big, clunky fingers. And even if you did—Kiryu manages just fine, doesn’t he?”

“Nnngh,” Mika grumbles again, but starts on a new section of fabric.

As usual, Shu is right. Mika’s fingers are thin and spindly, which is probably why Shu entrusted him as an assistant in doll-making before he realized that Mika was, well, _terrible_. He could hold the needle and sew easily, but his hands shook and he got impatient sometimes with each of the stitches, which meant they ended up uneven and jagged and…ugly.

That’s why Mika had asked for lessons in sewing instead of just observing Shu and trying to replicate it, but…hadn’t he read somewhere that you weren’t supposed to be taught by family or lovers? Not that Shu was either of those things, but Mika kind of understood the feeling, he thinks. Shu wasn’t exactly the most understanding of teachers.

He fumbles with the stitch a couple times and he hears Shu let out a long sigh and get to his feet. Mika shoots his head up. “Wait, I promise I can do it! Just gimme a li’l longer, I almost got it—!”

But Shu doesn’t head out of the clubroom. He moves to Mika’s side, then behind him, and then he bumps Mika forward with his chest and Mika scoots forward on his stool so that Shu can situate himself behind Mika, a leg on either side of his body. Shu’s chest presses flush against Mika’s back and he tucks his chin over Mika’s shoulder. His cheek brushes Mika’s ear and cheek.

“Since you’re as stupid as a child, I’ll have to show you like a child,” Shu says, voice very, very close to Mika’s ear and very, very low. His hands slide over Mika’s. “Stop tensing up.”

That’s a great idea. That sounds really terrific. Mika would love to comply, honestly, he would, but he can’t force himself to breathe, let alone unfreeze his body where it’s petrified at every point Shu is touching him. Which, for the record, is a _lot_ of places. Shu’s hair is tickling his neck and his breath is ghosting over Mika’s collarbone and Mika’s never, _never_ been this close to another person, even Arashi never—

Shu takes Mika’s hand and flaps it. “Kagehira, are you listening to me? You’re stiff as a rod. Loosen up, or I won’t be able to teach you.”

Mika tries to take a breath and it stutters.

“Kagehira?” Shu says, tone changing. He drops Mika’s hand.

He has to say something. He’s making this weird. What is _wrong_ with him?

“ _Oshi-san never touches me like this_ ,” Mika blurts out.

“Kagehira, breathe,” Shu orders, leaning away from him.

Mika takes a breath, deep and shuddering, and then, he can breathe again.

“Is this too uncomfortable?” Shu asks. “Too close? I assumed that your physical closeness with Narukami meant this was acceptable, but perhaps that was naïve of me. You don’t like the gazes of people; if that extends to touch as well—”

“No, it’s—” Mika says. “I want Oshi-san’s help.”

“I don’t have to touch you to help you,” Shu says.

“No, that’s not—” Mika bites his tongue before he says something stupid like, _I was so overwhelmed you would share this close proximity with me that I  forgot to breathe_. “I thought Oshi-san wouldn’t of liked touchin’ me, yanno? ‘Cause I’m not perfect.”

Shu snorts. “Absurd. Ah, I got worried for nothing. You really are a troublesome one.”

“You were worried?” Mika asks. “You don’t mind touchin’ me?”

“Word choice, Kagehira,” Shu says, neatly avoiding the first question. “Word choice.”

It works. Mika turns pink. “Oh, I didn’t mean—”

“Of course you didn’t,” Shu says. “You’re loyal to a fault. It doesn’t occur to you to sexualize your master.”

The word ‘sexualize’ swims through Mika’s head and his entire body feels like jelly. Sexualize _Shu_? Sexualize his _Oshi-san_? That was so far into forbidden—of course, Mika had wondered—it wasn’t like he was _immune_ to the appearances of his classmates, and Shu was—well, Shu was gorgeous—Mika had a healthy, often overactive sex drive but—to think of Shu in _that_ way, he—

“Oh, that’s better,” Shu says, flopping a limp wrist. “Keep yourself pliant like this. Kagehira, do you understand?”

“Aye,” Mika says, straightening up. He shakes his head a little and Shu presses back against him. Mika’s fingers twitch, but other than that, he doesn’t react.

“Alright,” Shu says. “This is how one _properly_ stitches.”

He covers Mika’s hands with his own and guides each of the punctures in the fabric, showing Mika how to measure and straighten each of his stitches. Having to guide another, the seam wasn’t perfect, but much straighter and neater than Mika’s attempts. Shu’s hands are soft, too. He’s warm and he smells good and despite Mika’s earlier apprehension, he finds himself relaxing into Shu’s body and letting his hands and fingers go loose and easy to guide.

“Wow,” Mika says. “Oshi-san’s amazin’!”

Shu clicks his tongue. “This is harder than I expected.” There’s a pause, and then, “Your hands are larger than mine.”

“Mm? They are?” Mika lifts up his hand for Shu to measure his against. Shu presses their palms together and Mika makes a small noise in the back of his throat. Shu’s right. Mika’s palms are just a tad wider, but his fingertips poke over the edge of Shu’s fingers.

“Hm,” Shu says. “You’re not as small as you look.”

“Oshi-san’s taller, though,” Mika points out.

“Not by much,” Shu says. “Nito was much smaller.”

Mika tilts his head back a little. “’S that bad? That I’m not small like Nazuna-nii?”

There’s a hitch in Shu’s breath. “No,” he says. “No, if you’re Kagehira and only Kagehira, that’s…good.”

 _Good_. Mika feels the word in every fiber of his being, resonating through his cells and rattling his heart with _yes, yes, yes_.

“A-Anyway,” Shu says. “Aren’t you supposed to be focusing on sewing? Don’t bring up Nito and get distracted, you useless clod.”

“Sorry, Oshi-san,” Mika says, but his voice doesn’t sound quite right. He forces himself to look back down at the sewing, starts a new stitch, and promptly sticks the needle straight into Shu’s finger.

Shu yelps and Mika jumps. “Sorry, sorry! Crap, I’m sorry!” Mika grabs his hand and examines the injured finger. A big, red dot of blood wells up. “I’ll take care of it,” Mika says, pulling Shu’s hand towards his face.

“Kagehira, don’t you _dare_ —” Shu starts.

Mika sticks the digit in his mouth, lapping at the blood and sucking gently at the wound. It’s not bad, he doesn’t think—worse than he’d been sticking himself earlier, but after a little bit of licking at it, it wasn’t giving up any more blood. He gives it another suck for good measure and releases Shu’s finger, teeth grazing his skin. He wipes his spit off on his uniform.

“’S not bleedin’ much,” Mika says. “I think it’ll be all good.”

Shu doesn’t say anything.

“Ah!” Mika says. “I didn’t ask, did I? Sorry, ya prob’ly don’t want my dirty mouth on yer—”

“Please, for the love of god, stop talking,” Shu says, voice strained.

Mika tilts his head and his eyes widen. “Oshi-san, yer—! Could it be yer not good with blood?” Shu, red-faced and covering his mouth, looks as if he might keel over and throw up or collapse into tears. Both possibilities frighten Mika.

“No, just—just shut _up_ , Kagehira,” Shu says, voice muffled.

“Ya look sick,” Mika protests. “I need to take ya to the nurse’s office or somethin’— _mmph_!”

Shu slaps a hand—his sore hand—over Mika’s mouth. “Shut. Up.”

Mika nods. Shu removes his hand and examines the damage, _still_ covering his face. “You really—” Stops. Sighs, and removes his hand from his mouth. Mika notes the red spreads to his ears and camouflages them against the pink of his hair. “Do you ever think before you do something? Ever?”

“What?” Mika says. “Wha’d I do?”

He’s immediately hit with a wave of déjà vu, of a conversation like this, with Shu, with Shu being weird then, too.

“Don’t stick random things in your mouth, idiot!” Shu snaps.

“’S not ‘random,’” Mika mutters. “’S just Oshi-san.”

“I am going home,” Shu says. “Now. Which is inconvenient, because I can’t escape you even when home. But storming off and claiming that I’m going home and leaving you behind will make me feel better. Don’t follow me, Kagehira.”

“Kay?” Mika says. “I gotta follow ya eventually, though?”

Shu sighs. “We will continue this tomorrow.”

Mika blinks. “You’re not…mad?”

“No, I—” Shu looks at Mika again, that same kind of look he’d given him before their Live. Reassessing what he sees when he sees Kagehira Mika. And like before, Mika doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve this scrupulous observation.

“I’ll tell you when you’re older,” Shu says.

“I’m _two months_ younger than you!” Mika cries.

“You’re unendingly difficult, is what you are.”

“And—wait! Ya still need to go to the infirmary!”

“Heavens, _why_? You didn’t go all those times you stabbed yourself.”

“Yeah, but I’m not as fragile as ya, Oshi-san.”

“Excuse me? I’m _what_?”

 

\-----------------------------------

 

“Oh, that’s new,” Arashi says.

Mika doesn’t bother looking up at her. He continues to rest his chin on the table, chewing on the wax paper of the bag he’d gotten a cookie in. Predictably, it had been too sweet, but Anzu wasn’t cooking in home ec at the moment so he couldn’t bug her for charred leftovers. His stomach growls, upset, but he ignores that, too.

“Poor lifestyle sure is rough, huh, Mika-chan?” Arashi says. “You know, if you ever need someone to spot you some lunch, your nee-chan has your ba—”

“Naru- _chan_ ,” Mika moans. “I think Oshi-san is _dying_.”

“Oh? Interesting,” Arashi says, taking a seat across from Mika. She folds her hands and rests her chin on top of them. “Tell me more, sweetcheeks.”

“’S happened _three times_ now,” Mika says, sitting up and shoving three fingers in Arashi’s face. “Three times he’s started actin’ weird around me. I didn’t even _do_ anythin’!”

“Dump him,” Arashi says flatly.

“Naru-chan, _no_ ,” Mika says.

“I’m serious!” she says. “The guy obviously doesn’t appreciate all the work you’ve put in to keep him and Valkyrie afloat _and_ he’s constantly rude to you. Do you really want to stick with a guy who calls you ‘idiot’ and ‘useless’ all the time?”

“That’s his way of showin’ affection,” Mika protests. “He’s not good at talkin’ ‘n stuff like we are, so he’s gotta show it in his own way. And…and I kinda like it.”

“I see,” Arashi says, face carefully neutral.

“No, no, no!” Mika cries, ruffling his hair. “Now yer thinkin’ somethin’ weird, ain’t ya?”

“You’re a masochist, Mika-chan,” Arashi says. “Either that or you just want him to call you dirty things…oh, I’ve struck a chord, have I?”

“Naru-chan is the _worst_ ,” Mika chokes out, flushed. “I don’t want—that’s not—that’s _dirty_ , Naru-chan!”

“I mean, it’s not one of my kinks,” Arashi says, looking over her nails. “I’d rather be worshipped by my man, but to each their own and all that.”

“Can ya just _listen_?” Mika whines. “I really think Oshi-san’s dyin’!”

“Alright, alright. What’s bothering you about the turd king?”

Mika screws up his face at the nickname, but holds his hands out. “Before a Live, he was doin’ my makeup, yanno? He was puttin’ on my lip gloss and then outta nowhere he just looked at me all funny. And then again, when he was teachin’ me to sew and I stabbed him—don’t _laugh_ , Naru-chan—and all I did was suck the blood off his finger and he’s lookin’ at me like he’s gonna be sick or somethin’!” Mika rips at the wax paper, pouting. “Then yesterday when I was doin’ laundry ‘n rollin’ in the clothes, he just stopped and stared at me for a whole minute! All I said was they smelled good! That’s not weird!”

“That’s weird for sure,” Arashi says.

“He’s been lookin’ at me analytically,” Mika says. “Like I’m a problem he’s tryna solve. So I figured he’s either gonna kick me outta Valkyrie or he’s dyin’ and he just don’t know how to tell me.”

“I have a question,” Arashi says. “What, exactly, did you say about the clothes smelling good?”

“Ha? Just that they smelled like Oshi-san,” Mika says. “He smells really good.”

“I thought so,” Arashi says. “Suddenly, I’m feeling a bit more sympathetic towards your mentor.”

“What? Why?”

“If I told you, he’d get real mad at me,” Arashi says.

“Yer a sucky best friend,” Mika mutters.

“I _can_ promise you that he’s not dying,” Arashi says. “And that he’s not going to kick you out of Valkyrie.”

“How would y’know that?” Mika asks.

Arashi flicks him across the forehead. “Well for one, you guys live together, so it’d be weird as hell to kick you out just like that, even for him. And second, you’re as darn cute as a button. That guy likes cute things, doesn’t he? He couldn’t toss you to the side, not at all.”

She pinches his cheeks and Mika giggles and bats her away. “Ow, Naru-chan!”

“Oh my cute, cute little Mika-chan!” Arashi sighs dramatically. “What am I going to do if he steals away my sweet little button?”

“I’m not goin’ anywhere,” Mika promises. “We’re best friends, ain’t we?”

“Yes we are,” Arashi says. “Aw, promise me you’ll always love your nee-chan, won’t you? She’ll cry lots and lots if you leave her for a big stinky puppet man. And then she’ll steal you away from him, muahaha!”

“Nooo,” Mika cries. “Don’t steal me away! I promise I’ll love you forever ‘n ever!”

“Good,” Arashi huffs. “Well, since you’ve been so good, I’ll let you in on a little hint, okay?”

The word _good_ pings against Mika’s psyche, but not as strongly as before, and he dismisses it. “Hmm?”

“If you want to figure out what’s going on with your ‘Oshi-san,’ you should try returning the favor—observe him as closely as he observes you. I think you’ll find out something interesting.”

“Nnngh,” Mika says. “I dunno, Naru-chan…I’m not all that smart, yanno?”

“Oh, this doesn’t require a lick of brain power,” she promises. “In this kind of situation, it should be obvious if you take the time to _look_.”

“Alright…” Mika says. “I guess I can give it a shot.”

“Before you do, though, maybe think on why your mentor smells the best, okay?” Arashi says.

“Hm? Why? It’s just ‘cause he does, innit?”

Arashi leans across the table and kisses Mika on the forehead. “If you ever don’t know what to do with what you’re feeling or what he’s feeling, do that. It’s a good luck charm from your nee-chan to you.”

Mika touches his forehead. Kiss Shu on the forehead? “That’s impossible, Naru-chan.”

“You’d be surprised, sweetheart,” Arashi says.

 

\-----------------------------

 

Observe Shu and it’d become obvious what was wrong? What a load of _crap_. Arashi was a _crap_ best friend.

Mika peeks around the pot of miso and udon noodles he’s stirring to the other side of the kitchen where Shu is chopping up vegetables to be thrown into the soup. Shu frowns at the vegetables with the usual amount of bitchface, chops with the usual amount of vigor, and speaks with the usual amount of words. The usual being enough to give him frown lines, quickly, and very few. Mika can’t detect a stinking thing different about Shu.

“Kagehira,” Shu says, without looking up, “if you paid that pot half the attention you pay me, you’d be a good cook by now.”

Mika snaps his head back around. “Yes, Oshi-san,” he squeaks. What was Arashi thinking? Shu had a sixth sense for Mika-detection; there was no way Mika could sneakily observe him. He didn’t have the smarts to figure out a plan, either. He sighs and stirs the pot.

Shu appears at his shoulder. “At least you’re good for brainless tasks,” Shu says, scraping the vegetables into the pot. He shoots Mika a glance. “If you just stare at me, I don’t know if it’s a plea for help or attention. Both are troublesome; can’t you just take care of yourself? In any case, use your words if you need me. It’s less annoying.”

“Yes, Oshi-san,” Mika says. “But I, uh, I wasn’t tryna get yer attention or anythin’. I was just lookin’.”

“Just looking at me?” Shu asks, raising an eyebrow. “As usual, you make no sense. Only do things with purpose, will you?”

Mika ducks his head.

“Here,” Shu says, sighing. “Tell me what you think.”

Mika looks up to see Shu holding a ladle out, one hand beneath it. Steam rises in wisps from the cupped soup. Frowning harder, Shu blows softly on the ladle and offers it to Mika. Mika leans forward, keeping his eyes on Shu, and sips at the soup. Shu tilts the ladle into Mika’s mouth and his fingers brush Mika’s chin.

“So?” Shu says. “Thoughts?”

Mika shakes his head to clear the fogginess.

“You don’t like it?” Shu furrows his brows.

Mika waves his hands. “No! I mean, ah, yes! It’s—it’s really good! Seriously!”

“What’s with that idiotic circus act you’re putting on?” Shu says. “Just tell me plainly if it’s good or not.”

“Yeah,” Mika says. “I like it lots.”

“Hmm,” Shu says. He raises the ladle to his own mouth and Mika’s heart catches in his throat. _No,_ he wants to say. _No, that’s dirty. Oshi-san, if you put your mouth to that, where my mouth was, that’s—_

Shu makes a face. “Kagehira, I don’t appreciate lies. This is bland. The miso is overpowering.”

“Nnah? But I wasn’t lyin’?” Mika says. “If it’s too fancy, it makes my stomach all bad, so I like it more when it’s plain. I think it’s perfect.”

“If it’s going to make you sick, it can’t be helped,” Shu says, sighing. He plucks at Mika’s side and Mika squeaks, flinching away and flushing. “You’re already so skinny I’m afraid you’ll blow over if you sing too loud. I can’t afford to feed you something you won’t eat.”

“I-If it’s Oshi-san’s cookin’, I’ll eat all of it!” Mika says, still flushed. “I’ll even ask for seconds!”

“Get out of my kitchen, you mongrel,” Shu says. “Don’t praise me if I don’t deserve it. Go make yourself useful and set the table.”

Mika snaps him a salute and hustles for the bowls and chopsticks. He scurries out of Shu’s line of sight, but not before he catches a half-smile playing at the edge of Shu’s mouth and nearly trips. _That’s weird_ , Mika thinks. _That’s definitely weird. Is this what Arashi meant?_

Shu’s strangeness doesn’t clear up over dinner, either. Mika shovels the noodles into his mouth, slurping at them and occasionally pausing to chew on a vegetable, but Shu picks at his soup, eating a single noodle or vegetable at a time, resting his cheek against his palm, elbow propped up on the table. His eyes are distant, so much so that he doesn’t see Mika put his chopsticks down and reach for the croissants at the center of their dining table.

He does notice, however, when Mika dips a piece of the croissant into the soup.

“What are you doing?” Shu says, snapping out of his reverie. “Don’t—that’s wasteful—”

Mika holds the pastry to Shu’s mouth. “You should try it, Oshi-san. Tastes real good soakin’ up the flavors of the soup.”

Shu sighs. “Kagehira, this isn’t the right kind of soup for dipping—”

“Try it,” Mika says in a singsong voice. “Do it for me.”

Sighing again, Shu parts his lips and lets Mika press the croissant into his mouth. When he closes his mouth, his lips brush Mika’s fingers and Mika lets out a soft _ah_. They’re soft—much softer than Mika’s, bitten from anxiety. Even with the pressure and anxiety pressing down on Shu, he managed to keep himself intact and clean. Mika wants to touch them again, but Shu would call that unnecessary, wouldn’t he? How silly would it be, Mika touching Shu’s mouth to feel the texture of his lips. He looks up to see if Shu has noticed his deliberation, but Shu is focused on the taste of the soup-soaked croissant.

“Not…terrible,” Shu relents. “The flavors mingle nicely and make a sweeter taste than the soup on its own.”

“I told ya; it’s good,” Mika says. He dips another piece of croissant in the soup and presses that to Shu’s mouth.

“I’m not a _child_ ,” Shu mutters, but he accepts that piece too, and the next, until it’s Mika feeding him by hand while he stares off into the distance and thinks about whatever it is that’s bothering him. While Mika thinks about his mouth.

“What’s botherin’ ya?” Mika asks, pausing to take another bite of his soup. “Ya don’t usually keep things from me.”

Shu drags a hand down his face. “Tenshouin, of course. Who else could drive me into a corner like this?”

Mika pauses eating for a moment, then continues. “What does the Emperor want?”

“To stretch all of us thin, apparently,” Shu says. “Perhaps he’s grown tired of the DreamFes and the breed of competition it provokes. A lion in charge of his pride must get restless and fight with the other males after a while, right? And so, he’d like to challenge the rest of alphas to a show of power and skill.”

“The Tanabata Festival again?” Mika asks quietly.

“No, this is not a competition like that—not in name, at least,” Shu says. “This is to be an exhibition of the variety of talent and production skill we as a unit possess. No, he hasn’t called it a ‘competition,’ but with every unit required to put on a display at this ‘exhibition,’ no one will be holding back. It’ll be obvious who is the strongest and who is the weakest, when the night is over.”

“If we don’t show up, we’ll be disbanded, huh?” Mika says.

“That seems to be the case,” Shu says. “I wouldn’t be so troubled putting together a show if the theme he had picked wasn’t so antagonistic—”

“Do ya want me to stop him?” Mika asks, still quiet.

Shu stops staring into the distance to take better stock of Mika. The whites of his knuckles are showing as he grips his chopsticks, and he’s looking into his soup with blank eyes, mouth turned down. Mika himself is hardly aware of his grasp and distant stare until Shu places a hand on his shoulder.

“Kagehira?” he says.

Mika looks at him. “Threatenin’ can go both ways, y’know?”

Shu sucks in a breath. “No,” he says. “That won’t be necessary. I would never endanger you like that.”

“I could do it, though,” Mika says. “I could threaten him.”

“No,” Shu says again. “You’re my puppet, not my attack dog. Don’t take actions not led by my threads, understand?”

Mika drops his eyes. “Understood.”

Shu catches his chin and tilts his head back up. “Am I the greatest idol in Yumenosaki Academy?”

Mika nods jerkily. “Yes!”

Shu smiles. “Then have some faith in me.”

“Aye,” Mika says, eyes glittering.

“Besides,” Shu says. “You’ve managed to inspire an idea in me. Perhaps this exhibition will not be as much of a disaster as I had believed.”

 

\----------------------------------

 

“Oshi-san, I know ya said I inspired ya,” Mika says. “But what does that have to do with takin’ measurements all over again?”

“Do I look stupid to you?” Shu says at Mika’s side, measuring his height against the wall. “We need new costumes, _especially_ for a theme as difficult as this one, and for this exhibition, your measurements must be _exact_.”

“I don’t think I got that much fatter, though,” Mika says, pinching at his stomach.

“You’ve filled out a bit,” Shu says. “I’m trying to feed you protein so you don’t just gain fat, but your weight has increased, which means those kilograms have to go somewhere. Come.”

He guides Mika to the center of their living room, hand on the small of his back. He pulls out a thin tape measure and crouches in front of Mika. “Spread your legs.”

 _Oh_ , Mika thinks.

He complies, standing with his legs just outside the width of his shoulders. Shu is professional with his tape, wrapping it around the width of Mika’s calf and noting the measurement in his phone. He moves further up Mika’s leg, to half-way up his thigh, and wraps the tape measure around him.

It’s not sensual, not at all. Shu is all business, hardly touching Mika. But he said the words _spread your legs_ and he’s crouched in front of Mika and Mika can’t help thinking that it’s been quite a while since he last got off.

“Good,” Shu says. “You’ll still fit into those boots. I’d have a hell of time trying to find new ones on such short notice.”

Mika’s not sure what boots have to do with Shu touching his leg and saying dirty things, but he nods.

Shu stands and moves behind Mika. He stretches the tape across Mika’s shoulders and makes an irritated noise in the back of his throat. “You’re a _boy_ ,” he grumbles, like it was some kind of crime.

“Yes?” Mika says. “’S that…huh?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Shu says. “I was already going to have to make modifications to the base, at this rate I may as well make the entire thing from scratch. Lift your arms.”

Mika obeys. Shu loops the tape measure around Mika’s chest and pulls it tight. Mika’s back straightens unconsciously. Shu makes a note, then slides the tape down to his torso and pull tight there, too.

He makes another note and clicks his tongue. “Too damn skinny,” he mutters.

“I’ll try to put on more weight?” Mika offers.

“No,” Shu says. “Normally I’d say yes, but for this costume, I need you to maintain your weight as closely as possible.”

Mika is starting to get nervous about this costume.

Then Shu’s hands settle at his hips and Mika forgets things like costumes and measurements and common human decency, because, as with all things Shu, he’s not gentle in his grip. He’s firm and unyielding, his hands fitting perfectly against Mika’s body and that’s not—that’s not something Mika should ever _know_ , he should never be able to _know_ how compatible things like hands and hips are between him and Shu. He should never be able to misconstrue a strong grip as something possessive, as ownership, as something he could rock back into, because Shu wanted it, too—

Shu tightens the tape measure around Mika’s hips and clicks his tongue twice. “Your hips stick out, honestly. You’re nothing more than a skeleton with a pretty face.”

“ _Guh_ ,” Mika says intelligently.

“Kagehira, shut up,” Shu says. “If you’re going to make pointless noises, it’d be better if you just closed your mouth, wouldn’t it?”

Mika, not trusting himself not to let out a frustrated groan, nods.

Shu steps away from him and starts to measure his own legs. “Fortunately, you appear to be around the same width as when I measured you last time. I can modify some of your outfits but I’ll need to make a lot from scratch. Pray that I haven’t lost too much weight—I can’t afford to work on my own costume much, I’m afraid.” He nods at the measurements of his legs. “Good, that’ll do. Kagehira, come here and measure my chest and hips, would you?”

“Um,” Mika says.

“Is there a problem?” Shu asks.

“Ah, but if I mess up—”

“You’ve done it before, haven’t you?” Shu says. “Get over here.”

He hands the tape measure to Mika and turns his back on him, standing straight and squaring his shoulders.

 _It’s nothing_ , Mika thinks. _Nothing is anything_. _All of this is meaningless. It’s just idol business._

He spreads his hands across Shu’s back. Shu shifts slightly under his touch. He’s warm, and his back is wide and strong. Mika spreads the tape measure across his shoulders, feeling the muscles beneath his button-up shirt. He taps out the measurement on Shu’s phone, then moves down to his chest.

“Ah, Oshi-san, can ya—?”

“Mm,” Shu says, raising his arms.

Mika isn’t quick and clean like Shu. He has to reach around his body and press his chest to Shu’s back as he grapples for the other end of the tape measure. His breath stirs the hairs at the base of Shu’s neck. When he finds the other end, he pulls it tight, securing the tape around Shu’s chest and unintentionally, his nipples.

“Kage _hira_ —” Shu says, the last part of Mika’s name breaking off into a breathy gasp. Mika freezes and the sound of his name, of Shu’s voice like _that_ , rings in his ears and crackles like thunder. He can feel Shu’s body tense under his grasp, but he can’t release the tape measure because he’s _frozen_.

“Too tight?” Mika asks, voice low and soft, _no, no what is he **doing**_ —

“’S fine,” Shu says, also low. “Just…take the measurement.”

Mika slides the tape measure to take the reading and Shu hisses. Mika tries to make numbers make sense instead of replaying _Shu noises_ in his head, and writes down a number that hopefully makes sense. He releases the tightness of the tape and Shu exhales, but his inhale catches and stutters as Mika slides his hands down Shu’s sides to get to his stomach, tightening the tape again.

Mika leans in, chest brushing against Shu’s back and hair tickling his ear and jaw. Mika can’t help it—he wants to hear. He’s never heard Shu make any noise like these before and they’re so _curious_ , he has to know more. He takes the next measurement and then slides his hands down to Shu’s hips.

 _Oh,_ Mika thinks. _Mine fit, too_.

Shu’s smaller hands fit Mika’s smaller frame and Mika’s larger hands fit Shu’s larger frame. It was like they were matched—carved from the same stone and fit together like two cracked halves that when pressed together, sealed so the crack was invisible. If Mika pressed up against Shu now, slotted their bodies together like twin stones, would they melt together? Would they become one, single entity, stronger and more beautiful than when they were apart?

“Kagehira,” Shu says. “I would appreciate if you would focus.”

“Right,” Mika says. “Right.”

He takes the final measurement and lets Shu go. Shu doesn’t run from him, but he does put a couple feet of space between them. When he turns to Mika, he’s pink in the face and the ears and down his neck and his hair is fluffed up on one side and he can’t quite look Mika in the eyes and—

And Mika’s heart gives a heavy _thud_ and promptly tries to launch itself out his throat.

 _Oh,_ Mika thinks. _Oh no._

“Are you alright, Oshi-san?” Mika asks around his heart in his throat.

“Am I—?” Shu breaks off, giving him an incredulous look. “You—”

Mika tilts his head.

“Yes,” Shu says. “I’m peachy. I’m…taking these, and I’m going to work. A lot. Don’t bother me.” He waves his phone in Mika’s face and this time he does flee.

 _Oh no,_ Mika thinks. _Oh no, oh no, oh no._

 

\------------------------------------

 

“Alright,” Arashi says. “That’s just plain unhealthy.”

Mika’s chewing on a twig he’d pulled off a tree this time, unwilling to make his stomach churn more than it already was with sweets. Arashi pulls at the twig and Mika growls and clenches his teeth around it. Other people on the terrace glance at them.

“What are you, a dog?” Arashi cries. “Let it go, idiot!”

Reluctantly, Mika lets her have it. Arashi makes a face and tosses it into the bushes. She slides across from him and raises an eyebrow, which was a sign for “Okay, let’s hear it” if Mika had ever seen one.

“Am I in love with Oshi-san?” Mika asks.

“Oh, sweets,” Arashi says, reaching across the table to pat him on the head. “Yeah, honey. It’s not exactly hard to guess. The question you _should_ be asking is ‘How long have I been in love with the turd king?’”

“Nnngh,” Mika groans. “I was hopin’ ya’d tell me I’m not. Or to ditch him or somethin’.”

“You should ditch him,” Arashi says. “Date me instead.”

Mika smiles. “Naru-chan would be the best girlfriend ever, prob’ly.”

“You bet your sweet ass I would be,” Arashi says, crossing her arms and leaning back. “I’m a luxury few can afford.”

Mika looks at his hands. “I wish I was in love with Naru-chan instead.”

“Now there’s a lie if I’ve ever heard one,” Arashi says. “Listen, I might not be too fond of your master, but that doesn’t mean I’m _blind_ , y’know? You love him so much. He makes you happier than anyone, even I, could make you. There’s no way you regret loving him.”

“Yeah,” Mika says. “Yeah, I guess yer right.”

“What’s got you down, Mika-chan?” Arashi says. “I thought something like this would make you happy.”

“Nnngh,” Mika says. “It’s _Oshi-san_.”

“Uh-huh. And?”

“It’s not right!”

“Uh…huh.”

“I’m serious!” Mika says, throwing his hands up. “Oshi-san is—he _saved_ me. He takes care of me, makes sure I’m healthy an’ safe. I’ve always loved him, ‘course! But like this just ain’t _right_. He’s not—not somethin’ _obtainable_.”

“Honey,” Arashi says. “He’s a human, not a god. He’s third year, just like us. Also, he’s—hmm.”

“What?” Mika says.

“Did you take my advice and observe him?” Arashi deflects.

“Yeah, but I didn’t find anythin’ enlightenin’,” Mika says. “He’s just actin’ weird ‘cause of the exhibition comin’ up.”

“Oh, really?” Arashi says. “Blushing, flustered, stuttering—all that’s associated with the exhibition, huh?”

“How’d ya _know_ that?” Mika says. “I never told ya!”

“Woman’s intuition,” Arashi says. “Women are smarter than men, don’t you know?”

“Well…yer a whole lot smarter than me, Naru-chan, so could ya…give me another hint, maybe?” Mika asks. “One that’s easier for me to decode.”

“Kiss him on the forehead,” Arashi says. “I mean it.”

Mika colors. “No—no, Naru-chan, that’s takin’ advantage of—”

“No, it isn’t,” Arashi says. “It’s a sign of affection. It means friendship when I do it to you, doesn’t it? And you hadn’t even thought about doing it with romantic intentions, had you?”

“No…” Mika admits. Things like _kissing_ and _Oshi-san_ were a Venn diagram without overlap.

“I told you to do that when you don’t know what to do with what you feel or what he feels,” Arashi says. “Trust your nee-chan once in a while, will you?”

“Maybe,” Mika says. “I won’t promise anythin’.”

“Or you could just seduce him,” Arashi says, shrugging. “He’s gay and you’ve got the looks. It wouldn’t be that hard.”

“Wh—how do you just _know_ these things?”

Arashi gives Mika a _look_. “You really think there’s a single straight person here besides me? You’re all gay, sweetheart.”

“I don’t understand how—”

“Anyway, that’s not the point. Wear something sexy! You’re pretty innocent, so I would never have you make any bold moves, but if you play up the helplessness and undo some buttons on your shirt, you’re sure to get somewhere.”

“Naru-chan, I can’t just—”

“Oh!” Arashi says, tapping her palm with her fist. “You wouldn’t have any sexy clothes, would you? I can lend you some of mine if you’d like.”

“Ya know, I think I’m good,” Mika says weakly. “Just a kiss on the forehead, right?”

“Hmm, alright,” Arashi says. “Good enough for me. By the way, what happened to make him flustered?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I was just takin’ his measurements and I got a little touchy-feely and he got flustered when I was holdin’ him by the hips…what?”

“Jesus _fuck_ , honey.”

 

\----------------------------------------

 

And then, Shu plays his hidden card. Mika knows the moment he sees it that the card is meant to be an ace, but in Mika’s eyes, it’s a joker, a wrench in the machine, a knot in the thread, an unexpected twist he feels in his gut as soon as he opens the door to his room and sees the dress.

Dress—could one really call the work of art before him simply a dress? To lump it in with other dresses would be to sully Shu’s craft and to belittle his hard work. No, this was an idol’s costume, something to be worn on stage and displayed to the world, to be marveled at. Mika drops his school bag and walks into the room slowly, afraid even to approach the costume.

It’s a magnificent thing—layers upon layers of wine red and gold skirts, studded with gold roses along their length, that were short in the front and dropped off in the back into a long train that Mika could not be expected to dance easily in, given the weight. The torso is a corset of reddish leather with fanciful gold clasps and gold chains leading up to an opening for the chest and collarbones, which led to long black sleeves that ended in the Valkyrie-patent, lacy cuffs and began with a black fan of material up his neck, held together with an orangey-red stone brooch. Mika spies the thigh-high black boots and a little black hat with a golden rose and a sheer golden ribbon around it, and a collar of the same reddish leather, golden buckle winking at him from behind the black flared neckpiece.

Mika can tell from the width of the shoulders and the shape of the corset that this dress is meant for him. It will not fit anyone but him and his heart sinks.

“Do you like it?” Shu asks. Mika whips around to see Shu leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed.

“It was a royal pain to get the neck to stand up and to get all those roses sewn on,” Shu says. “That being said, I think it’s probably my best work. I expected to spend the extent of my talent on Nito, not you, but apparently fate had different plans.” He smiles. “With this dress and my suit, we can conquer the exhibition and crush the vulgar masses.”

“Then—yer not wearin’ one,” Mika says.

“No, of course not,” Shu says. “That wouldn’t make any sense.”

Mika flinches. “Then…why me?”

“Why…you?” Shu says, furrowing his brow. “Isn’t it obvious?”

Mika takes a breath. “Just ‘cause my name is feminine and I hang out with Naru-chan, don’t mean—”

“What does your name or Narukami have to do with anything?” Shu says. “Don’t you like it?”

“’S beautiful, Oshi-san, ‘course it’s beautiful, but—” Mika looks up. “I ain’t a girl, yanno? I can’t be wearin’ a dress up on stage with everyone lookin’.”

“Why not?” Shu asks.

“’S just…it’s just—I’m a guy, too, yanno?” Mika says.

“That has nothing to do with it,” Shu says. “You are playing a role in this exhibition, a role that necessitates you wearing a dress. You are to obey me and wear it, because I know what’s best for Valkyrie.”

“For Valkyrie…” Mika says. He smiles, sharp. “Ya don’t think about me at all, do ya?”

“I don’t think of—are you mad?” Shu blinks. “Kagehira, are you cross with me?”

“Ya know I’m sensitive about this stuff,” Mika says. “My name, my hair, my body type—it’s all so feminine. I let ya put makeup on me, but I’m not a girl! I’m not just a doll!”

“Now you’re just throwing a tantrum,” Shu says. “You’re stupid, so I don’t expect you to understand why this is important, but you have to wear that costume, for the good of our unit.”

“Yeah, I’m stupid, so I don’t get things!” Mika snaps. “But is this for our unit? Or yer pride?”

Shu scowls. “I don’t have use for someone so truculent. If you’re going to throw a fit, then maybe it’s for the best if Valkyrie is disbanded.”

“Fine,” Mika snaps. “Maybe I’ll find a new unit that’ll treat me like a person and not just another Mado-nee.” He stomps out of the room, clipping Shu with his shoulder and marching all the way out of the apartment, without even pausing to grab his key.

Mika rides out his anger all the way up the stairs until he reaches the roof of their apartment complex. He stomps through the door and around the corner to the fire escape, where he can sit down and swing his legs over the side, looking out into the string of bright jewels he called his home away from home. And it’s there, arms looped over the railing of the fire escape, that Mika tilts his head back and lets out a long, frustrated howl.

He lets that howl carry all the anger, all the fight out of him, until he’s left slumping against the railing, the cold of the metal biting into his uniform. Up on the roof, the wind’s a bit chilly now that the sun has gone down, and Mika shivers. But he’s not going back. Not for food and not for help on his homework. Just thinking about Shu makes the anger roil inside him again.

Mika doesn’t like being angry. He’s a happy-go-lucky kind of guy, guileless and honest, going about his life as simply and as happily as he can. He’s not easily upset by taunts or insults, especially not directed at him. After all, he understands Shu’s ever-creative insults are a way of showing affection, a way of showing he’s paying attention to Mika, even if he mostly comments on his flaws.

It takes a lot to stir Mika to anger. Hurting the people he loves is one of his breaking points. He has so few precious people already that an attack on them is worse than laying a hand on him. He’d field a thousand of Shu’s casual insults with a laugh and a smile, but the moment Eichi had gone for Shu’s exposed underbelly, Mika’s jaws were already at his throat, prepared to close around his jugular. Mika would slay a thousand demons for Shu, for Arashi, for Nazuna.

But there comes a point when he can’t deal with being walked over. Shu directing his diet, his work, his performance, his bedtime—all those things Mika was fine with. Because he knew they were in his best interest, and he knew Shu was worrying about _him_ when he pestered Mika about eating snacks or staying up too late texting Arashi. But that dress—that dress directly overlooked Mika’s comforts in favor of soothing Shu’s pride. Shu would get his satisfaction at the expense of Mika’s humiliation. And Mika does not have such little dignity that he would let something like that slide.

And yet—for Shu to blatantly disregard Mika like that, to dress him up in clothes he knew would make Mika upset—that was so uncharacteristic of him, wasn’t it? Mika knew Shu loved to dress him up. Even when Mika thought Shu wasn’t looking, whenever they went shopping and Mika cooed over clothing, the designs he liked found their way into Valkyrie costumes. Of course, Shu denied all of it, saying he’d found the aesthetic choice appealing and it had nothing to do with Mika’s dreadful taste that just _happened_ to be on point this one time.

Shu didn’t treat Mika like Mado-nee. He treated him like Mika. That was unfair of Mika to say.

“I came up here to be mad at ya,” Mika groans. “So why am I forgivin’ ya so easily?”

It was just that Shu didn’t do things without reason. Even during their fight, it was as if he was seeing something different from what Mika was seeing. It was…possible…that Mika had been too hasty. But still, even if there was some reason, shouldn’t he have led with it? He _knew_ Mika was sensitive about his femininity. Liking cute stuff and eating candy and preferring to talk with girls didn’t make him less of a guy, after all.

“Argh,” Mika grumbles. “Oshi-san, yer the _worst_. Worse than Nazuna-nii and worse than Naru-chan and worse than the Emperor.” He pauses. “’Kay, maybe not worse than Tenshouin-kun, but yer the _worst_.” Mika kicks his legs. “I wanna be mad at ya still! I wanna pout! I want ya to worry that I’m not home and worry that I’m mad and worry that ya upset me and I—”

Mika takes a breath. “I just want ya to think about me, Oshi-san. ‘Cause I think of ya all the time. All the time.”

Mika stays outside for another two hours, singing the songs for the exhibition, and some of the older Valkyrie songs, and then some of Knights’ songs, the ones that he likes but will never tell Arashi that he likes. He sings some of the songs he’s heard on the radio and some of the songs his mom played when he was little. He sings a song by an American girl that he likes a lot and he thinks is about love and fighting and it hits a little close to home, so he gets up and walks back down the stairs to their apartment and hopes Shu hasn’t locked him out.

Mika opens the door quietly, hoping to sneak into his bed without tripping Shu’s detection, but of course, he has no such luck. He spots Shu in the kitchen at their table, nursing a cup of tea before Shu spies him. The door clicks shut and Shu snaps his head up.

“Kagehira,” he says. “You came home.”

Mika shrugs a shoulder.

“Thank god,” Shu says, standing. “I thought you might’ve gone back to Kansai.”

Mika shakes his head.

Shu walks towards him as if approaching a feral cat on the verge of fleeing. He stops a good meter away from Mika and drags a hand through his hair.

“Look, I’m so—”

“Sorry.”

Shu looks up. “What are you apologizing for?”

Suddenly shy, Mika shrugs one shoulder and looks away.

Shu sighs. “Look at this. I’ve gone and scared you into treating me like a stranger. I’m really, really such a fucking…idiot.”

Mika looks up, eyes wide.

“Can I get you some tea?” Shu asks. “Three sugars?”

Mika nods.

Shu walks back into the kitchen, putting the kettle on the stove. They don’t say anything until Mika has his cup of tea in his hands and is blowing on it, sitting across from Shu.

Shu speaks first. “I went about this the wrong way. Entirely. I got caught up in the excitement of my project and I didn’t ask for your input or even your consent. And on top of that, I presented you the costume with no explanation, thinking you would be able to divine the meaning of our program.”

“I’m just stupid, so…” Mika says.

“You’re not stupid, Kagehira,” Shu says, sighing. “You’re incredibly insightful and not emotionally stunted like I am, which is a kind of intelligence that is hardly acknowledged or appreciated when it may be one of the most important pillars of communication for humankind.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Mika says. He hopes the color in his cheeks is attributed to the cold.

“In any case,” Shu says. “This is my fault for taking on all of Valkyrie’s responsibilities when you’re half of this unit. I’m sorry.”

“’M sorry too,” Mika says.

“Heavens, _why_?” Shu asks. “You reacted as any normal person would react.”

“Well,” Mika says. “Oshi-san’s always lookin’ after me so I figured…if Oshi-san wants me to wear a dress, he’s got a good reason for it.”

Shu gives him a long, searching look.

“What?” Mika asks.

“You trust me too deeply,” Shu says. “I wonder if I am responsible for this. In any case, wouldn’t it be more reasonable to trust your own instincts and preferences over the actions and choices of another, especially one who has failed you over and over?”

“Oshi-san’s never failed me,” Mika says into his cup. “Oshi-san’s protected me and cared for me and made me better and stronger. Yer…my most precious person.”

Shu takes a long drink of his tea. “That’s—don’t make nonsense declarations like that. I’m the one who was going to force you to wear a dress, remember?”

“Yeah, but it is real pretty,” Mika says. “And ya have a reason, so?”

Shu sighs. “Don’t trust anyone but me this deeply, alright? Anyone else would use you for your good nature and hard-working personality.”

“’Kay,” Mika says, smiling a little bit. “Just Oshi-san, then.”

“Anyway, the dress,” Shu says, leaning back. “Tenshouin’s theme is opposition and contrast. He wants to create strife in amongst units that are usually expected to work together. For more flexible units like Trickstar and Knights and Switch, this will be easy. But for Valkyrie, who pride themselves on a unified performance and plan their movements down to the wire, this is the worst possible theme. Our typical performance is in contradiction of this theme. In order to devise a performance that would work, I had to think far outside our comfort zone.”

Mika’s eyes are wide.

“I decided on the concept of femininity and masculinity,” Shu says. “Yes, Kagehira, you were one of my inspirations. You are more feminine than most of the other performers, yet you are male. With this concept, it would be expected that I would take the masculine role and you the feminine.”

Mika looks away.

“But,” Shu says, and Mika looks back at him. “Tenshouin wants opposition. We have the contrast of masculine and feminine but where is the opposition? That is where I came up with the idea for our choreography. See, Kagehira, I will not be leading. You will.”

“Me?” Mika squeaks.

“Yes,” Shu says. “We will play out a lover’s quarrel, where the man has betrayed the woman somehow, but instead of taking it lying down, she puts him in his place. She steps over his pride and his dignity and makes him hers. Like this, the audience will be enraptured but never allowed in, as this passionate love and anger ostracizes all except the lovers entangled in each other.”

Shu leans forward. “Of course, given your inclinations, I thought to make you the man, but seeing as you’re always pushed to the back and never given a chance to shine, it didn’t seem to be in ‘opposition’ of Valkyrie’s norm. That being said, if you would prefer I wear the dress, I can make modific—”

“I’ll take it,” Mika says.

“Are you sure?” Shu asks.

“I’m sure,” Mika says. “If Oshi-san put that much thought into our Live, there’s no way it can be wrong, is there?” He smiles. “I’ll wear it with pride.”

Shu sighs and shakes his head, wearing a half-smile. “You never fail to surprise me.”

They finish their tea with few words after that, Shu excusing himself to his room while Mika washes his cup. Mika retires to his room, but being enveloped in darkness, all his nerves exposed from the fight and the forgiveness, Mika is too wired to sleep. He tosses and turns for an hour before grabbing his pillow and a stuffed animal and padding to Shu’s room.

He pushes the door open tentatively and pokes his head in. “Oshi-san?”

A heavy breath and then, “Yes?”

Mika scuffs his foot on the carpet. “Can’t sleep.”

Another deep breath, then shifting of covers. “C’mere, then.”

Mika tiptoes to the side of his bed and slips into it, burrowing his way under the covers and fluffing his pillow under his head. In the low light, he can make out Shu’s mess of light hair and the shape of his body as he rolls over to face Mika. “Bad dream?”

Mika shakes his head. “Just…worryin’.”

“Over what?”

“Us.”

A half-laugh. “What about us?”

“That was our first fight, wasn’t it?”

“Mm. Yes, I believe so.”

“Are ya…mad?”

“No. You were completely justified.”

“…”

“Are _you_ mad?”

“ _No_ ,” Mika says, grabbing at Shu’s shoulder. “No, I—”

“Then what is there to worry about?” Shu asks.

Mika hunches his shoulders. “I don’t wanna fight again.”

“Tough,” Shu grunts. “There’s no way we won’t fight again.”

“But it feels…ugly.”

“All fighting feels that way, unless you’re ugly yourself. Like Tenshouin.”

“Fighting Tenshouin-kun felt good though?”

“That’s because he’s ugly. It’s only natural to want to punch ugly things.”

Mika laughs softly.

“You’re laughing,” Shu says.

“Can’t help it,” Mika says. “I feel better all of a sudden.”

He opens his eyes and looks at Shu to see bright eyes on his. Shu is smiling, too. Not the face-splitting smile Mika wears, but soft and real, and prompted by Mika laughing.

And then he feels it, rising within him. He knows what it is now—it’s his love for Shu. He feels it flowing out of his heart and into his arms and legs, pumping every artery full with happiness, every pore open with joy. He’s spilling love with every breath and scattering affection with every blink of his eyelashes. It fills him and consumes him, and he remembers what Arashi told him.

Mika leans forward and brushes Shu’s hair away from his forehead to kiss him there. He’s quick, just the press of lips and away, but when he looks back at Shu, Shu’s brows are furrowed even though he’s still smiling. “What was that for?”

And for Mika, honestly has always been the only viable option. “I just love ya so much, Oshi-san,” he says. “I get so happy I don’t know what else to do.”

Shu huffs a laugh. “I may never understand you, Kagehira. But if your devotion is that deep, then perhaps you can act as a space heater, now that you’re here.”

And then there’s nothing to stop Mika from wrapping around Shu’s back like an octopus, head tucked against his neck, arms around his stomach, legs entangled, and Mika’s stuffed animal squished between their bodies.

 

\--------------------------------------

 

“Nnah,” Mika whines. “I dunno, Oshi-san…it’s still pretty embarrassin’.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, just show me, would you?” Shu gripes from the living room. “I’m going to see you practicing in it, aren’t I? Why does it matter that I see you now?”

Mika fists his hands in the skirts, being careful to avoid the sewn roses. Shu’s a miracle worker—the skirts and train aren’t nearly as heavy as Mika had expected. The corset fits tightly, but Mika isn’t gasping for breath. He looks at himself in the mirror and has to do a double take. With a little makeup and some dark color to his lips, it really would be impossible to tell if he was a girl or a boy. Mika averts his eyes and grasps the skirts tighter. No, it wasn’t something to be upset over. Shu had a plan. He always had a plan.

Besides, when Mika twirls in front of the mirror, he’s indescribably beautiful. Shu wasn’t lying when he had said this was his finest work. The gold catches light and winks back at Mika and the satin finish to the skirts made them practically glow. He wasn’t wearing any of the accessories besides the boots—they’d figure out the hat’s placement during dance practice—and the heel on them is perfect for crushing someone beneath Mika’s feet. Crushing Oshi-san beneath his feet.

Mika’s stomach churns and he whines again. “Oshi-san, I dunno…”

“Kagehira, I will march into your room and zip you into that dress myself if I must. _Come._ ”

Alright, alright. Mika takes a breath and summons the most domineering persona he can. He thinks of when shop customers were rude to his coworkers, or Eichi with that Cheshire-like half-smile. He thinks of how mad he had been at Shu last night, and lets those difficult emotions settle over his face. When he opens his eyes, the person looking back at him in the mirror is not the Mika he knows.

Mika struts out of his room, taking the stairs down from their rooms slowly, making Shu wait. The heels of his boots click on the wood and the only other sound is the swish of his train as in drags across the ground. When Mika meets Shu’s eyes, he keeps his face neutral and disinterested, as if he were looking at any other man on the street.

Shu’s eyes are blown wide.

Mika’s persona carries him across the kitchen and into the living room, but the moment he approaches Shu, he breaks. “’S that okay? ‘S that what ya want?”

“ _Magnifique_ ,” Shu breathes. His hands hover on either side of Mika’s shoulders, hesitating to touch him. “I worried perhaps that the part may have been too hard on you, but I could not have been more wrong. This is a role you were born to play.”

“Really?” Mika asks. “Feels pretty mean, though. I don’t wanna be mean to Oshi-san.”

“You’re not,” Shu assures him. “We’re lovers, remember?”

Mika’s heart jumps.

“I’ve done wrong by you, and you’re mad at me,” Shu says. “Just remember how you felt last night and follow your instincts. Kagehira the idol cares for Shu the idol, so Kagehira the scorned woman will care for Shu the traitorous partner. It will come out naturally—you’re too honest to be any different.”

“Right,” Mika says weakly.

“Anyway, let me take a look at you,” Shu says. “How’s the movement? Not bad, I hope? You’ll be practicing in a mockup of the skirts so as to not get this one dirty, but the weight shouldn’t inhibit your movements too much; I made it lighter. The corset breathes? You’re a man and not a woman, so modifying the shape was difficult. And this shoulder and arm piece, does it move alright? The material is stiffer, so I wondered…”

“Nngh, Oshi-san,” Mika says. “My head’s gonna hurt if ya keep pepperin’ me with questions.”

“Hm, alright,” Shu says. “I’ll walk you through some choreography, tells me if anything pinches or constricts you.”

Shu leads Mika through some of the early steps of their dancing, pieces that would force Mika to make a lot of sweeping or quick movements. As expected, it’s difficult as compared to past costumes, but Mika manages to complete the steps with minimal wobbling on the carpet. His shoulders are a bit tight and the corset doesn’t really bend, but Mika has no trouble with the dress unless he has to move backwards. Shu nods along as Mika dances. Mika can see him rearranging the choreography, adding and cutting and manipulating in his mind.

“Good,” Shu says. He laughs. “Excellent, actually. This performance will be unorthodox for sure, but Valkyrie seems to thrive when challenged, don’t we. You’ve done well, Kagehira.”

The praise soaks into Mika’s skin and into his bloodstream and pumps straight to his heart, sharp as an adrenaline rush. He’s glowing, he’s flushed—he doesn’t know what to do with the emotions running through him, especially not when Shu is looking at him with a smug smile. Mika nods furiously and hopes his ears aren’t too red.

“Now let’s see about your makeup,” Shu says. Mika steps closer to him and Shu takes Mika’s face in his hands, tilting it. “I’ll be doing it heavier than usual—is that alright?”

“Mhmm,” Mika says. “I’m leavin’ it all up to ya.”

“Very well,” Shu says. He brushes some of the hair from Mika’s face and looks Mika up and down, pursing his lips. “Thank god you’re beautiful. I can’t imagine having anyone less beautiful than you wearing my clothes.”

Mika makes a tiny, aborted noise in his throat. “ _Oshi-san_ …”

“No, hush, let me praise you,” Shu says. “You may have a head stuffed full with hay, but when your mouth is shut, there’s no one quite as beautiful as you. Nito is perfect, but his beauty is more charming, while yours is…”

Mika trembles.

“Well,” Shu huffs. “You’re simply stunning, is what I’m getting at. Of course, with my costume and makeup work, the audience will be unable to look away, but it would be much more difficult for me if you weren’t so lovely all on your own.”

“I’m gonna cry, I think,” Mika says. “I really think I’m gonna cry.”

“Don’t do that,” Shu chides. “I need to pick out your eyeshadow. Crying will make your face all puffy and red. You’ll skew my palette choices.”

“M’ face s’already red,” Mika mutters.

“What was that?”

“’Kay, I won’t cry,” Mika says. “Yer real cruel sometimes, ya know.”

Shu doesn’t answer. He stares intently at Mika—right at his eyes. Mika looks down and away, but he can still feel Shu’s eyes on him. He wriggles in Shu’s grasp.

“Don’t—don’t look at ‘em,” Mika says.

“Pardon?” Shu says.

“My eyes,” Mika says. “Yer lookin’ right at ‘em. ‘S gross, ain’t it?”

“Your _eyes_?” Shu scoffs. “What about them is gross?”

“They’re odd-colored,” Mika says, still wriggling and not looking at Shu. “They don’t match like everyone else’s. ‘S really weird, ain’t it? Makes me flawed and ugly.”

Shu squints at him. “Have you gone mad, Kagehira?”

“Wh—what?”

“Look at me,” Shu says. Mika looks up. Shu clicks his tongue. “The only negative aspect of your eyes is finding a color that won’t clash with them, and that’s more of an enticing challenge than a downside. Are you blind as well as stupid?”

Mika blinks. “ _Why?_ ”

“One, molten gold enough to drown even the wealthiest man,” Shu says, pressing a thumb over Mika’s right eye. “The other, pale blue as the depths of a swimming pool and as haunting as a gemstone.” He presses a thumb over Mika’s left eye.

Mika feels the puff of Shu’s breath as he leans in next to his ear and whispers: “Ugly? No, you are mistaken, Kagehira. You’re not ugly; you’re a demon of temptation. One is drawn in by the shape of your jaw and the slope of your nose, but once they get too close they drown in clear water and shining gold. Once they’ve seen your eyes, it is the end. They fall in love, and they drown.”

Shu leans away from Mika, but somehow Mika’s hands have found his arms and he’s holding on for dear life, because his legs might give out if he dares to give Shu some space. Mika can’t breathe, can’t hear around the ringing of his ears, and when Shu lets go of him, he can barely see around the tears that blur his eyes.

“I thought I said no crying,” Shu says.

“Yer so—” Mika starts, a half-sob, then stops. “Yer so… _ugh_.”

“Words, Kagehira,” Shu tuts. “We use our words. And I won’t be hearing any more of that ‘my eyes are ugly’ garbage. If you dare call something of mine ugly, I’ll have to kick you from the unit, understand? Everything I own is beautiful.”

“Yeah,” Mika says. He offers wobbly smile. “Yeah.”

Shu pauses. “Sometimes, I—”

“Yeah?” Mika asks.

Shu brushes a thumb over his cheek. “When you look this beautiful, sometimes, knowing you’re mine really makes me—” He breaks off, furrowing his brows.

_Oh._

“Knowin’ I belong to Oshi-san, too, makes me—” Mika says, then stops, biting his lip. “I really—”

From the kitchen, Mika hears the sound of Shu’s ringtone. Neither of them move as it goes off once, twice.

“You really…?” Shu says.

“Shouldn’t ya get that?” Mika says. “What if it’s important?”

“This is important, too,” Shu says, not taking his eyes off Mika.

“’S nothing,” Mika says. “Just…I like belonging to someone.” _Coward,_ he spits at himself.

“Ah,” Shu says. “Well, that’s good, I suppose. As long as you remain useful and obedient, you’ll always have a home so…keep up the good work.”

Mika nods as Shu turns to answer the phone with a “Kiryu? I’m _busy_ ,” and heads back up the stairs to strip himself of the dress. It’s a pain to get off, but Mika doesn’t want to bother Shu with helping him when Shu is chatting so animatedly with Kuro. He finally escapes the costume, hangs it up neatly so Shu doesn’t gut him, and then proceeds to bang his head against the wall for the next ten minutes.

 

\-----------------------------------

 

Three days before the Live and after weeks of practicing, Mika receives a gift package in his locker. It’s pink and tied with shiny gold ribbon and the right size to be something dangerous. Mika knows he should drop it or burn it or hide it under his bed, but like a fool, he looks inside.

 _You know what to do_ – _Naru-chan_ , reads the note.

Mika drops the box and flushes so deeply that Kaoru asks what’s wrong with him when he gets to class.

 

\------------------------------------

 

And then, it’s the Live.

“What are you doing? Don’t you have a stage to manage?” Shu snaps at the stage manager hovering around Mika as he starts to pull on the upper half of his costume.

The stage manager scowls. “He looked to be struggling a bit—”

“Do I look so incompetent as to not be able to take care of my dolls?” Shu asks. “Shoo, shoo.”

Mika looks between them with wide eyes. The stage manager clicks his tongue and marches off. Shu approaches Mika and Mika says, “He was just tryna help.”

“And lay his filthy hands on you?” Shu says. “I won’t allow it. Tonight, you are to be untouchable and perfect. Only I can get you prepared for that stage.”

Mika grins. “Dramatic as ever, Oshi-san.”

“But of course,” Shu says. “That’s my character, is it not?”

Mika snickers and reaches around his back, trying to zip up the back of the dress and in the process, nearly dropping his skirts. He squeaks and scrambles for the material, completely bared except for, well, the dress.

“Whoa there,” Shu says, stepping to Mika’s side and grabbing at the dress himself and holding it against Mika’s hips. “Ask for help with something like this.”

This is familiar.

The feeling of Shu’s chest pressed to his back is familiar, same as the time in the clubroom. The feeling of Shu’s hands on his hips is familiar, the same as when he took Mika’s measurements. The feeling of Shu’s breath against his ear is familiar, same as when he leaned in and praised Mika for the eyes he had always hated. And this feeling of aloneness—just the two of them together—was familiar, from when they had sat together backstage in the underground theater and the first time Mika had picked up on something wrong with Shu. This was a conglomeration of all those times, and more.

Like before, Mika freezes in Shu’s grasp, but unlike before, he melts out of it in a heartbeat, relaxing against the touch of Shu’s costume on his bare back. And unlike before, Shu’s hands don’t grab him with confidence, but hold him like a question, like the testing of water before diving in. And when Shu’s grip tightens, Mika leans back further, neither speaking.

“Hold it,” Shu says, voice barely over a whisper. Mika takes a hold of the skirts and Shu slowly zips up the back of the dress, ending midway up Mika’s shoulder blades. Shu smooths his hands along the bare skin of Mika’s shoulders and then strokes down his sides, fingers pressing with purpose along the bumps of his ribs and the tensed muscles of his lower back until he’s back to holding Mika by the hips.

“Oshi-san,” Mika whispers.

“This is familiar,” Shu murmurs, lips brushing Mika’s ear. “If I recall, you were the one to do this to me last time.”

“Do wh—” Mika starts, but breaks off with a hitched breath as Shu strokes his sides again.

“The time for playing dumb has passed, don’t you think?” Shu says. “Honesty suits you better than pretending, Kagehira. I remember what you like.”

He lets go of Mika and grabs the corset. Mika’s eyes are on him in a second, tracking him as he untangles one of the chains and then moves to Mika’s front. Mika raises his arms without prompting and Shu pulls the corset around his back and starts doing up the clasps.

“I can do it myself,” Mika says. Shu’s hair brushes his forehead.

“I know,” Shu says. He finishes doing up the clasps and reaches for the collar. “Tilt your head back.”

Mika obeys, because it’s all he can do.

Shu slips the collar around his neck, pulling the tongue of the belt tight enough that when Mika swallows, he can feel the leather press against his throat. Shu latches it shut and lets go of Mika’s neck and Mika looks back down, but not before Shu slips a finger under the collar and tugs up, forcing Mika to look back up again.

“Ah,” Shu says. “That’s the obedience I like.” He leans forward to nip at Mika’s chin and Mika’s breath catches _again_.

“Good boy,” Shu says.

He releases Mika, Mika stumbling forward on his heels and pink from ears to neck. Mika’s hand goes to his chin, dreamlike, as Shu gathers the shoulder and arm pieces. When he returns to Mika, he looks him up and down and the corner of his mouth quirks.

“I thought you might’ve liked that,” Shu says. “Raise your arms.”

Mika does as bidden, but sputters. “Oshi-san, you can’t just—”

“Oh? You didn’t like it then? You don’t like it when I praise you for behaving?”

Mika’s heart _throbs_. His eyes flutter closed and he turns his head away. He gives the tiniest shake of his head.

Shu tugs the material over Mika’s arms and latches it at the throat, attaching the brooch after. “Oh, Kagehira, you really musn’t look away from me like that, all bashful. It really drives me crazy.” Mika peeks back at him. Shu presses a hand to the exposed part of Mika’s chest, over his heart. Mika sucks in a breath.

“Like that,” Shu murmurs. “Your chest heaving, like the fragile fluttering of a bird, and the pitter-patter of your heart, like wingbeats against my fingers. When I have that, and the subservient aversion of your gaze, your face flushed with unspoken want, it really…” Shu takes a breath. “Knowing that it’s mine and yet I can’t have it—it drives me crazy.”

 _You can have it_ , Mika thinks. _If you want it, you can have it_.

“But ain’t it…ain’t it _wrong_?” Mika asks as Shu goes for the earrings.

Shu snorts. “Kagehira, two men loving each other is no different—”

“ _I know that, I’m bi_ ,” Mika says in a rush. “But the two of us…I’m just a commoner, yanno? And yer…yer _everythin_ ’ to me.”

“I’m insulted,” Shu says. “To think after all we’ve been through, you’d doubt me and my dedication to you.” Shu fits one earring through Mika’s ear and Mika tilts his head to the side.

“Dedication?” Mika says.

“Of course I care about you,” Shu says. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“But what I want—”

Shu leans in again, tilting Mika’s head to the side and dragging his teeth along Mika’s earlobe. Slow. Hard. Deliberate. Mika’s hands fist in the front of his costume before he can stop himself and he looks at Shu with wide eyes when Shu pulls back.

Shu raises an eyebrow. “You tell me. Would I do that to someone I don’t want?”

He fits the second earring through Mika’s ear while Mika desperately tries to bring his brain back online.

“Now, let’s touch up your lipstick,” Shu says. “I’m grateful I thought to do your makeup before we left but I don’t want it rubbing off of you.” He pulls the tube out of his makeup bag and Mika parts his lips so that Shu can paint them dark red.

 _I understand, I think_ , Mika thinks. _And I’m glad you want me, make no mistake. But it’s not just your body—no, it’s like…that’s only a bonus, not the main event. I want **you** , Oshi-san. Your heart, your soul, your attention, your love. Your body, too. I want all of it. Don’t you understand?_

“Oshi-san,” Mika says as Shu puts away the lipstick. He fiddles with his hat. “About...this. ‘S not—I mean, I think I confused ya or somethin’, or there’s been a misunderstandin’…”

“Oh?” Shu says.

“I mean.” Mika ducks his head. “I…’s not just physical, I mean. ‘S all of Oshi-san. I want all of ya. What I really mean is that I—I feel—”

“I know,” Shu says.

Mika looks up at him.

“Did you think those feelings were not returned?”

There’s the rushing sound of a curtain being pushed aside. “Valkyrie, you’re on in…five…” The stage manager trails off. Seeing Mika and Shu leaning into each other with the desperation of lovers.

“Thank you,” Shu says, clearing his throat and not looking at him. Mika doesn’t lean away.

“I—” Mika says the moment the stage manager leaves.

Shu silences him with a finger ghosting over his lips. “Now is not the time for words, Kagehira.” He smiles. “And you’re better with your actions, aren’t you? Why don’t you show me just how you feel on stage, when we crush the exhibition and all those other worthless units?”

 

\---------------------------------------

 

Breathing is the center of a performance.

One who controls their breath can control their body, control the rhythm of a song or a dance, control the emotions showing on their face. Losing one’s breath to fear or mistakes is the death of a performer. Without breath, one cannot move, cannot sing, and cannot face the audience with fearlessness.

Before he steps out onto the stage, Mika breathes.

As with all of the Student Council’s events, the house is packed. There are even people sitting in the aisles or standing at the back. Mika makes out the shapes of faces in seats and peering over the balconies up top when he steps onto the stage and takes his place beside Shu. He feels their stares and their attention, and like every time he is on stage, he is afraid.

But Mika is the master of his breath. He takes them deep and slow, steadying his heartbeat and refusing to let his body tremble. He can see the first row—reserved for other idol units. He sees Arashi’s hands fly to her mouth. He sees the smile that spreads across Wataru’s face. He sees the widening of the other idols’ eyes, the glances they exchange amongst each other when they catch sight of Mika. He sees Eichi’s neutral expression twitch into a tiny frown.

But they don’t matter. The gazes of the audience and how they feel about this performance doesn’t matter. Valkyrie have never let anyone into their world, never let anyone see what they see. The masses are blessed to witness Valkyrie’s performance, but they will never be one with the performers on stage. And for once, Mika really isn’t there for them. All his focus is directed towards Shu. This is a conversation between them, and them alone.

The music starts and Shu spins around Mika, who stands tall, crossing his arms and following Shu with waltz-like steps as Shu dances around him in circles, taunting and strutting, before pushing Mika off with a laugh and walking across the stage on his own. And then the spotlight is on Mika.

At first Mika is hurt, making himself smaller and turning in circles, pacing back and forth, not knowing what to do. But then he shakes his head, curls his hands into fists, and stomps on the stage loud enough for it to echo across the house. He marches towards Shu and then they’re dueling.

The way Shu choreographed and planned the performance was a duel of increasing strength. They alternated solos while dancing their “attacks” on each other and then circled and sang in unison. But as time goes on, the contrast between the two becomes obvious. Mika’s solos gradually grow stronger and more aggressive, more flair in his dance, while Shu grows quieter and more reserved in his movements. It is to end in a chase around the stage where Mika traps Shu in the chair at the center of the stage.

But even though it’s supposed to be a fight, Mika feels other emotions rising to the surface. Pride in himself. Self-confidence. The whisper of Shu’s words, _Did you think those feelings were not returned?_ And above all, a desire to be noticed, a desire to take the center stage—not for the audience to see, but for Shu to see and take notice him. A desire to have every fragment of Shu’s attention on him.

 _Watch me_ , Mika thinks. _Don’t you dare take your eyes off of me_.

He puffs out his chest, sings louder and clearer than he ever had before, and envelops the stage with his presence. Every time Shu tries to capture the audience’s attention and turn the tide of the battle in his favor, Mika stops him. He overpowers Shu and dominates the stage. When he meets Shu’s eyes, they are bright and he’s fighting down a smile at Mika’s performance, as he is supposed to be the beaten loser.

But Mika doesn’t hold back. He lets his smile cut and the sweeping of his arms take on flair he had never practiced with. Each step into Shu’s space is backed with confidence and hunger, until Shu takes off and it really is a chase around the stage, Mika’s high-heeled boots clicking as he pursues Shu, leisurely as a tiger stalks its prey.

And then, the finale, Mika standing before Shu and Shu pressed back into the chair, begging through his singing that his lover have mercy on him. Mika’s flair and excitement bleed into his movements until he is just as dramatic and they’re playing off each other’s energy, a smile breaking out across Shu’s face.

 _This has to end soon_ , Mika thinks. _I’m really just too fond to play at fighting with him_.

The final measure plays and Mika ends the song by driving his boot in between Shu’s legs, his knees jumping apart just in time to avoid being crushed under Mika’s heel. There’s a moment of silence, and then the house erupts into yelling and clapping that deafens Mika.

He can’t stop smiling as he lets Shu go, as Shu takes his hand and they face the audience. They bow for the crowd and Mika can make out the sound of Arashi’s whoop of support. Mika lifts his head and when he looks down, he can see Eichi swallow.

“Should we stay to greet the audience?” Mika asks.

“If I don’t kiss you right now,” Shu says, “there will be bloodshed.”

 

\------------------------------------

 

Maybe the stage manager knew what kind of hurricane was coming his way, because backstage is abandoned when Shu drags Mika behind the curtain.

Shu grabs Mika by the hips and pulls him against him, but it’s Mika who arches against him and pushes him into a wall. Mika takes hold of Shu’s face and kisses him, frantic and indelicate. Mika doesn’t know what he’s doing, only that he needs his mouth meshed against Shu’s. He’s needed it for quite a while now.

“Eager, are we?” Shu murmurs when Mika pauses to suck in a breath.

“Oshi-san, Oshi-san…” Mika says. “I need ya. I really, really need ya right now.”

“I know,” Shu says. “Me too.”

This time, it’s Shu who leans in, tempering Mika’s frantic energy with the calm shaping of his lips against Mika’s. He slows Mika’s pace, drags Mika into his rhythm. Mika goes pliant under his mouth and his fingers kneading into Mika’s sides. Shu flips them, so he’s leaning into Mika and taking control. He presses his tongue to Mika’s lips and Mika parts them, trusting Shu to know what’s best, like he always did.

He’s warm and soft. Shu almost tickles Mika and Mika arches against him again. Sucking on his tongue and dragging his teeth along it when Shu tries to pull away. Mika nips at his lips, insistent, and Shu laughs quietly.

“You’re a needy lover,” Shu says. “I can’t say I’m surprised.”

Mika pouts. “I just want yer attention. All of it, yanno? I want ya to look only at me.”

“Don’t worry,” Shu says. “After tonight’s performance, I doubt I’ll ever be able to look anywhere else.”

He kisses Mika again and Mika squirms under his grip. He wants _more_ of Shu, more of Shu’s attention, more of Shu’s love. He runs his hands down the front of Shu’s costume and paws at his sides, scratching up his back. His hips jerk up against Shu’s of their own accord and he squeaks in surprise at the feeling that jolts through his body when he gets _contact_.

“So impatient,” Shu sighs. “What do you want from me, Kagehira?”

“I dunno,” Mika says, averting his eyes. “I’ve never done this before. I just _want_.”

“I can tell,” Shu says. “You want my undivided attention, and I want to reward you for the performance you put out there. I may have…an idea.”

Mika makes a questioning noise but Shu ignores him, pulling him over to the chairs in front of the backstage mirrors and pushing him into one. He spins the chair to face him, and then, he sinks to his knees.

Mika colors immediately. “ _Oshi-san_ ,” he hisses. “You can’t—that’s—it’s _indecent_!”

Shu glances around him. “I think stage manager-kun has done a terrific job clearing the area. Or are you still carrying on about owing me something?”

Mika lowers his eyes.

“Listen, Kagehira,” Shu says. “Although I care for and lead you, you are not below me. We are both equals. We are both men. I don’t see you as a pet, I see you as a companion. A partner.” He grips Mika’s knees. “I want to do this, for you. Because you continue to surprise and amaze me. Because you are the shining heart of Valkyrie, and because I love you.”

“Oshi-san,” Mika whispers.

“That, and I’ve been thinking about you in this costume ever since I first had you try it on,” Shu admits. “You are impossibly enticing, and I am only mortal.”

“Ah, but Oshi-san,” Mika says. “There’s something—you really shouldn’t just— _um_.”

Shu slides between Mika’s legs and pushes back his skirts. Mika covers his face with his hands.

Shu pauses for a long moment. “Kagehira,” he says. “What is this?”

“Nngh,” Mika groans. “’S all Naru-chan’s fault, she _made_ me.”

Shu looks up at him. “Narukami forced you to wear lingerie to our exhibition.”

“Well…not _exactly_ …” Mika mumbles. “She bought ‘em and I felt bad not wearin’ a gift and all…” He peeks around his fingers. “Do ya not like ‘em?”

“I spend my days dressing you up and putting you on display,” Shu says. “In what _universe_ is it not one of my fantasies to see you in expensive lingerie?”

Shu’s fingers feather up from the clip of the garterbelt and the lacy tops of Mika’s stockings along the stretch of ribbon that attaches to the lacy skirt above Mika’s hips. He fingers the little bows above the cut of his hipbones and then to the little bow with a crystal on it that crowned Mika’s panties. Under his touch, Mika’s thighs tremble.

“Are you scared?” Shu asks.

“No,” Mika says softly. “I just…really want it. Is it allowed to want somethin’ so much?”

“Yes,” Shu says. “You can want it. It’s yours.”

Shu leans down and runs his teeth over the Mika’s soft inner thigh. Mika lets out a low whine, then digs his teeth into his knuckles to keep from crying out. Shu bites him—not hard, but enough for Mika to make aborted noises around his hand, Shu soothing each nip with the press of his tongue against sore skin. He squeezes Mika’s knee as he sucks a dark mark onto Mika’s thigh, each one closer and closer to his crotch.

Shu gets so close that Mika can feel his warmth radiating over his crotch, feel Shu’s exhalations against his skin. He squirms in the chair, free hand clutching at the armrest with white knuckles, but even with Shu’s hands steadying his thighs, he can’t sit still. He blinks, and then he sees Shu leaning back and looking up at him.

“Oh, if you knew how good you looked right now,” Shu says. “Mika.”

“ _P-Please_ ,” Mika stutters. “Please, Oshi-san, I can’t take it—”

 “Shh,” Shu says. “I know. I’m going to make you feel so good, Mika. You’ve been so good for me, haven’t you? Obedient and loyal. Protective and caring. No one deserves this more than you, so I’m going to give you the very best. Are you alright with that?”

Mika nods, digging his teeth harder into his knuckles.

Shu ducks beneath Mika’s skirts again and Mika feels warm hands pressed against the top of his thighs, in the dip where thigh met crotch. He feels the puff of breath, and then he feels Shu’s mouth on him, over the material of his panties.

Mika’s back snaps forward. He ruts helplessly into Shu’s mouth, gasps escaping around his hand. He can’t hear it, though—can’t hear anything over the blood roaring in his ears as Shu mouths him. It’s nothing more than the pressure of his tongue and the warmth of his mouth, but Mika can’t stand it. He wants more, he wants to be closer, he wants to come.

Then those hands at his hips are pulling his panties down and freeing him, and then Shu’s mouth is _really_ on him. He feels wet and heat and soft and Mika cries out because nothing, _nothing_ could have prepared him for how good it feels to be taken like this. He’s helpless to Shu’s ministrations, helpless to Shu’s mouth on him, unable to focus on anything but the pleasure spiking through his body and the knowledge that he was being served by the most precious person in the world to him.

When he comes, he throws his head back and lets his mouth fall open, his entire body tensing and zeroing in on Shu’s touch, until he’s nothing but an exposed nerve, shaken to the core. He shakes like a leaf as he comes, and then he goes limp and melts onto the chair, his thighs still shivering from sensitivity. His eyes are wet—unsurprising—and he pants for breath, his chest heaving in the way Shu found so appealing.

Shu appears from beneath his skirts, wiping at his mouth.

“Oh,” Mika says. “Ya swallowed.”

“Naturally,” Shu says. “I wasn’t going to risk dirtying this masterpiece, even for a little fun.”

“Should I…you..?” Mika asks. “I mean, ya did me so nicely, I should return the favor.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Shu says. “That was a reward for your hard work. And besides,” he looks to the side, “I get certain…pleasure…out of making you so helpless under me.”

“Mmm, but I kinda wanna?” Mika says. “I’ve never tried, so?”

“Later, perhaps,” Shu says. “We must leave soon so as not to arouse suspicion.”

Mika frowns. Well, that wasn’t quite fair, was it? Besides, there’s no way Shu wasn’t hurting after all their fooling around. It would be irresponsible to let him be without any compensation. And it wasn’t like Mika didn’t have any tricks up his sleeve.

Mika slides off the chair when Shu’s back is turned, sinking into his skirts. He plucks open the latch on his shoulder piece and lets it slide down, baring his shoulders and chest. “Oshi- _san_ ,” Mika whines.

“No, Kagehira,” Shu says. “Do you want to be thought of as a filthy degenerate?”

Mika scowls. _Back to last names?_ Well, two could play at that game.

“Shu,” Mika purrs. “ _Shu_ , don’t ya want me to do maintenance on ya?”

Shu visibly jerks at the call of his name. He whips around to face Mika and then his eyes blow wide.

Mika tilts his head and rolls his shoulders back. “Won’t ya let me do maintenance on ya?”

Shu makes a noise in the back of his throat. “If we’re late—”

“Who _cares_ ,” Mika says. “Yer always takin’ care of me, yanno? If there’s somethin’ I can do to please ya, I want to do it. Because I love ya, _Shu_.”

He beckons Shu over, and the moment Shu is within grabbing range, Mika goes for his beltloops, tugging Shu closer so he can wrap his arms around Shu’s legs and rub his cheek against his thigh. “ _Shu_ ,” Mika purrs.

“Idiot,” Shu says quietly. “Make it quick.”

“’Kay,” Mika says, letting him go. He looks Shu up and down and his eyes catch on Shu’s pants. “Mmm, you were lyin’, weren’t ya? It’d be real obvious what we were gettin’ up to if I left ya like this.”

“Sh-shut up,” Shu hisses. “If you’re going to—what are you—”

Mika leans over, pressing his lips to the toe of Shu’s boot. He kisses along the top of the boot, then up its length, clutching at the back of Shu’s leg and pressing himself against him as he rises. He sits up on his knees and looks up at Shu, eyes half-lidded. “Yer my partner,” he says. “But yer still my Oshi-san, after all.” And he presses a hand against Shu’s crotch, massaging it.

Shu jolts under his touch, swaying where he stands. Mika lets him go to undo his belt and button, and then he leans forward and tugs down the zipper with his teeth.

Shu’s breathing is audible. “You don’t have to—”

“Nah, I know,” Mika says. “But I’d do anything for Oshi-san.”

Shu buries his hands in Mika’s hair, stroking him and tangling his fingers in the dark strands. His grip tightens when Mika pulls down his boxers and frees him, before leaning forward again and taking Shu in his mouth.

Shu’s head snaps back and then forward as he tries to curl into himself, hips rocking into Mika’s mouth. He bites his lip against his better judgment and only lets out soft whines as Mika works him. Mika settles his hands on the backs of Shu’s thighs and keeps his eyes open, watching Shu’s eyes as they squeeze shut and he tries to hold in noises at how good it feels.

 _Ah_ , Mika thinks. _I understand why Oshi-san wanted to do this now. Seeing your partner like this, hearing their noises, seeing them weak with pleasure…it really stirs you up inside, doesn’t it?_

Mika doesn’t hate it, either. He doesn’t really know what he’s doing, but it feels natural, the movements of his mouth and tongue. He follows the signs of Shu’s body and the noises he makes and his hands fisting in Mika’s hair. And Mika reads the signs of Shu’s body when he tightens up, when he pats at Mika to stop, but if Shu was going to swallow, Mika was going to, too.

“ _Mika_ —” Shu gasps.

Shu comes with a shuddering grind into Mika’s mouth. Mika makes a face as he swallows, but other than that, he’s fine.

“You really, _really_ didn’t have to do that,” Shu pants.

“But ya said ya wanted the dress clean?” Mika points out. “Also…ya said my name.”

Shu covers his face. “No, I didn’t,” he groans.

“Yeah, ya did,” Mika says, leaning against his leg and beaming up at him. “I love ya, Oshi-san.”

Shu huffs. “Will I have to hear declarations of love from now on?”

“Mhmm,” Mika says.

Shu huffs again. “I…suppose I could get used to that. And will you get off me, Kagehira? We need to be going.”

“Was I good?” Mika asks.

Shu drags a hand through his hair. “Were you—were you _good_?”

“Yeah,” Mika says.

“I—well, your technique was…good. And the result was…good. And I…enjoyed—Kagehira? Kagehira, are you _laughing_ at me?”

“Pfft. No. Pfft.”

“I hope you plan on sleeping in a cardboard box outside. Because that’s where you’ll be sleeping tonight.”

“Oshi-san, _no_.”

Shu sticks his nose in the air, cheeks red, and turns around to gather the rest of their makeup and accessories and Mika stands to hurry after him. He’s not much help, hanging on Shu and driving him up the wall, but he can’t be bothered with Shu’s threats when he’s thinking of a plan to get Shu to call him by his first name again, or if they’ll be able to kiss some more when they get home.

 

\--------------------------------------

 

Of course, no amount of quickness or delay on their part could forestall the spread of rumors when Shu and Mika walk out of the theater arm in arm, Mika’s lipstick smeared across both their faces and Mika shining and bouncing with every step.

Even Eichi, lying in wait and prepared to take Valkyrie down a peg following their performance, simply pats Wataru on the shoulder and says, “They win this round.”

If Arashi catcalls and Kuro smiles as they pass, Mika pays no mind and Shu dismisses them with a wave.

 _It’s alright if they know,_ Mika thinks. _Maintenance has always meant love, and we’ve been performing maintenance on each other for as long as I can remember. It’s nothing strange or new, really._

“Kagehira,” Shu says, leaning his head against Mika’s shoulder. “Do you want to stick together, after graduation?”

“Of course, Oshi-san,” Mika says. “I’d follow ya to the ends of the earth, after all.”

**Author's Note:**

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